Allergies

Sammi, a neighborhood cat's face

There are plenty of people with allergies. Quite a few of us are allergic to "cats". Actually, people allergic to cats usually have problems with cat dander and saliva. Like most mammals, cats have some dandruff. Some have more than others. A couple of breeds have no dander at all. These are the rarities.

The problem allergen is a glyco protein ( fel d1). This is a molecule consisting of two polypeptide chains. Cats lick themselves clean and leave the saliva on their fur. This dries to an aerosol powder. Of course, petting the cat picks up the fel d1 on your hands.

Neutered male cats produce less fel d1 than those left "intact". In fact there is a possible link between the allergen and kitty testosterone. It may even play some in scent markers.

There are a few things you can do if you want cats at home and have that particular allergy. You can, of course, head for the doctor's office and get shots to deal with your allergy. You can keep an artificial cat, like one of those cute Japanese robot toys.

Another way to reduce allergic symptoms is washing. Wash your hands after playing with the cat. Certainly do not touch your face before washing up. But that is a little one sided, don't you think? Why not democratize the washing process?

Researchers at Washington University in St. Louis discovered that washing a cat with distilled water markedly reduced the amount of fel d1 and subsequent allergic symptoms. I wouldn't suggest that you immerse kitty in water unless you are a masochist or have access to full body armor and armored gloves. But using a wash cloth soaked in distilled water to bathe your cat works too. My cats don't seem to mind that kind of washing so long as the cloth is not too wet.

Be nice. Be respectful. Remember that your cats are related to an Egyptian goddess. (Her name is Bast or Bastet. She has a second aspect as a lion, so that respect is not only for her, but a little self serving.)

statue of Bast by Trent Talley

Farmville

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If this is typical of the site, I've played my last game with them.

Garden time

This is my sitting place. The rock at the left has a behind sized flat spot where I place mine and enjoy the garden.

It's close to the lower fall and I listen to the restful sound of the water falling. The fall is low enough so goldfish can migrate upstream to live under the rock arch.

Watching the little fellows congregate, chase each other around and munch on the algae covered rocks is relaxing. It's also amusing to count how many are in each favorite swimming spot. It can be a bit challenging since they do swim around and regroup constantly.

The rock arch has a fairly deep pool downstream and there is a little, stone bridge down from there. Both places, as well as the rocks along the sides offer adequate hiding places for the fish eaters that frequent our neighborhood.

But we do lose a few to the smarter ones.

The rock arch is downstream from the upper fall. We designed our little river so you can hear water falling and rushing everywhere along it. Both guest bedrooms open onto a fall.

My sitting place offers good views of the butterflies that come to munch on zinnia flowers or lay eggs on the dill.

I'm sorry to say that my sitting rock is also the hiding place of a local ground squirrel. He amscrays when I approach, but I'm working on a program of trust and greed (peanuts) to get him to stick around a little longer.

Even during the day, I have the moon and stars in view.

Nothing disturbs our sleeping dragon.

Hope you enjoyed this mini-tour of my garden.

various things

Yesterday, I spent most of my time in meetings. They were meetings about things that interest me, but they were meetings.

A purple cone flower blossom

But this morning, the weather was dry and out to the garden I hied meself. I yanked about a bushel of grass and trimmed lots of heads off our purple cone flowers (echinacea). This evening, I harvested the seeds and began to package them. If anyone would like some, send me a self addressed stamped envelope. Better make the postage for two ounces. I'll poke an envelope full of seeds with instructions for planting in yours and post it back.

Harvesting cone flower seeds is pleasant, mindless work. The cones dry and the petals fall off. What is left is a ball of seeds on a stem. When the seeds are ready for harvest, they displace easily and it is almost like stroking a stiffish puff ball. I let the seed fall into a sack, then repackage it in 3"x6" envelopes.

The cone flower is a native flower to the prairies of North America. It reseeds itself, so is considered a perennial. The nicest thing is that it blooms most of the summer, when the spring flowers have faded. Best time for planting is early fall. It is a light lover, so stick in places that get full sun.

While I was harvesting, I thought. A couple of recent news stories gave me pause. A man rammed a police car twice, then ran off into some fields. He was easily captured. He had firearms in his car. Since he was a convicted felon, that was charged against him as well as the traffic foolishness.

A woman was speeding frantically. When she was pulled over, her back seat was full of drugs.

A man set fire to the house he was renting. The fire department found drugs in the house, called the police and when they arrived, the man was found, sitting in his car, watching the fire.

These things reminded me that crooks are not the brightest bulbs in the box. Where oh where is Dr. Moriarty? Are there no more master minds of crime? Had Sherlock Holmes been around today, his client list would have been very slim indeed.

The political silly season has arrived. Each candidate vies for the title of most abusive and least substantial. I think Fran has the right idea. Don't vote for Democrats. Don't vote for Republicans. Don't vote for anyone who is already in office. If we do that enough times, maybe the people who run (you have to be a little off to want to be an elected official) will get the idea.

It amazes me how men and women who are so darned bright, head of their class in university, Eagle Scout, and all the rest can just let things go by them the way it is here. How many congress critters do you supposed read all 2,000 pages of that blasted health bill? Heck, the media are just now getting finished with the fine print and finding the little holes negotiated into the law. Perhaps we should insist that no elected official many voice an opinion or vote on a law unless he or she has read the whole thing and had the parts they don't understand explained to them by experts.

Okay, that's enough of that. Thanks for looking in. Please e-mail me if you don't have my snail mail.

A reflection on a mis-spent winter

Our deck dragon is being investigated by the kitties in this photo. While my discourse has nothing to do with either cats or dragons, it is significant that one is in the dragon's belly while the other peers in. Because, this little offering has a lot to do with bellies, mine.

When I was just going on teen years, one of my teachers came up with the startling revelation that we did not feel absolute hot or cold, but felt the difference between our body temperature and that of the environment or object we were touching. I took this as gospel. If you look closely, you will find it in letters of gold upon my forehead along with other vital facts imparted by the St. Louis public school system to its students.

I began to ponder this temperature differential thing. Somewhere in January or February, I came to the conclusion that if you were to cool the body temperature sufficiently, you would be much more at ease out of doors on a cold winter's day. Obviously, my young mind had not been exposed to the custom of diving into snow after a long sauna bath or any of the other tricks that northern European, Scandinavian and Russians used to amuse themselves during their long winter days.

Suiting the action to the theory, I consumed as much ice cream as I could find. A household of four children and reasonably indulgent parents afforded rather more than was good for me. But when I had eaten all I could hold, with the beginnings of an ice cream headache, I donned swim trunks and headed for the great outdoors.

I must have been tougher than I am now. I lasted until my mother saw me dancing on the frosty lawn and commanded me inside. Yes, I was chilled through and through. In fact, I had managed to get myself iced enough to be sick for the best part of the weekend.

For the scientific minded of my readers who may wish to replicate my delving into crude cryogenics, I weighed 70 or 80 pounds and managed to eat about a quart (say 2 pounds) of ice cream. That would have been 1.2% to 1.4% of my body weight. I'm guessing that the outside temperature that day would have been in the low to mid 30's.

Disclaimer: The author specifically denies encouraging anyone to duplicate this experiment and also denies any lawful or financial responsibility for the consequences to those who are silly enough to try it.